


is that your son?

by A_Nobelmonster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clothes Sharing, Disordered Eating, Hurt!Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pack Feels, Past Child Abuse, Protective!Derek, Protective!Stiles, Self-Harm, hurt!Scott, mentally de-aged!stiles, slight age kink (nonsexual)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Nobelmonster/pseuds/A_Nobelmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>is that your son? you can't save him, he will burn .</p><p>The question isn't how far will he go for the ones he loves, how far will he go for Scott.<br/>it's can he come back from what he's about to do once its over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darker than my demons , bigger than my bones

**Author's Note:**

> i found this in my drafts on tumblr , im really excited about it so hopefully i remember to continue it. inspired by law & order svu.

Even if he didn't know Peter, even if the guy was a stranger, he would still hate the douchbag. Just looking at the undead werwolves face was enough to make him want to lay out the creep, a reliable constant since he met the guy. So taking the sick fuck to jail? that's like bringing Christmas to Beacon Hills in May . Stiles has always like the idea of being Santa. 

But right now he feels like the devil in human form, walking through the front doors of the Sheriffs Department. It's not hard to imagine . Stiles see's the same demon in every reflective surface he passes. The stale circulated air whrrs by the contusion on his cheek bone. There is a fragile, mundane quiet to the office and he's come to break it open. Stalling for a moment at the front desk he lets the lull of the broke down a.c. steady his heart. 

" hey stiles, your dad is out on call, should be back soon-"

her name is Terry, the receptionist, he met her at a company party last year, she has honest eye's and two kids with the same cafe au lait skin. 

"actually i uh, i need to report a-i need to report a assault. a sexual assault. mine that is."

there are no carefully planned gestures just a quiver that is as honest and destructive in its nature as lightning splitting open the corps of a tree. The quiver is going to turn into a shake and demolish his bones before she ever has a chance to speak.

turns out he's wrong. still whole and just as terrified as ever. " Ok, why don't you come back and talk to Parrish." there is no "are you sure" or " this is a serious accusation Stiles." so maybe she saw that he was barely keeping his shit together; he and his delicate stomach are grateful of it either way. maybe. 

a chair is under him and the receptionist echoing in his ears " hey sheriff, Stiles is here, yeah i think you need to get back here ." Before he notices Parrish is across from him with a mug of tea. 

There is Chamomile and mint on his breath and its these small bits of information keeping Stiles running right now . Limbs slow but his mind and eye's are in a constant state of assessing the room.

"Terry said you wanted to report that you had been assaulted."

" yeah. well not really want to, id rather be here to nag on my dad for his awful diet. not come to confess something incredibly personal."

"But you are here so lets get it over with as quickly as possible. Do you want to go into one of the back rooms?"

treating him respect. giving him privacy. Fuck, he couldn't do this.

"No, don't treat me like the Sheriffs son, don't ...treat me specially."his nerves are incurring a sea of hellfire in the pit of his gut. 

"Ok," there is a small moment of something meant to appease Stiles and forced out with gentle professionalism soon after. " when did it happen?"

"May 3rd 10 p.m. So like a week ago? right? "

"Why did you wait so long to come in?" no accusation in his voice but is still has Stiles ready to cry or fight or both.

" Did you know." hang nail in his mouth he chews at the skin, "69,000 cases of female rape are reported every year, that's only the reported. there are statistics that say it's even higher but a lot of victims never say anything. Male cases? 9,000. only 9,000. why do you think that is? see i think its because there are people who will say, a guy can't be raped, he could have stopped him if he wanted to , if you get hard you can't hate it that much. Every time i go to sleep i hear those people, that's why i fucking waited......... but it wasn't getting better" metallic bite of blood in the corner of his mouth he gazes at the ragged spot on his thumb where a hang nail had been milliseconds prior. 

"Did you know your attacker?" Parrish hasn't written down anything in a while . Stiles feels paranoid, he needs this to be formal and as clinical as possible though, because if not he's going to think about how this is is dads work place, and these are the people he has spent his whole life with.

"Peter. it was Peter Hale." the deputy hasn't been in on the supernatural clusterfuck that is Beacon Hills for long, Stiles is certain that won't stop him from understanding how monumental a betrayal like that is in the pack even towards a human member. 

"Alright, i need you to tell me about the day it happened. Take your time." 

Time is relative. relative to a person whose sole caregiver has just walked through the doors of the building briefly letting in the heat heavy pine dust air. 

"I'll tell him to wait until we are done talking ok." Stiles had been starring at his father, turned around in his seat unmoving till the Deputy stood briskly weaving around desks to stand by his father. Whose troubled expression meets stiles looking him over with grim satisfaction that at least, visually his son wasn't dying.

...............................................  
ch. 2 Goddamn right you should be scared of me

It turns out stiles was wrong, high school wouldn’t be the most awful thing he had to look back on,  
Which makes him strangely sad, a right of passage is disintegrating right this very moment , 

“ Then I got to Dereks loft-“ it sounds fucking scary how little emotion there is in his voice right now.

“what were you doing there?” 

“same thing we’ve done every night for the last year and a half. Go over whats trying to kill us and how fucked we are.” Parrish didn’t deserve that but Stiles aches like his bones are being drawn to the ground were he’ll sleep forever and he’s cold, that’s nothing new but right now he’s not really thinking about doing any of this “nicely” .

“ok , you were visiting and then what?” the rustle of paper indicating the deputy is taking notes should make him feel better, more valid . nope it’s just starting an itch under his collar and unholy rage churning in his gut.

“Derek wasn’t there, typical , he’s never there even though it’s literally his home but …uh…anyways ….i thought it was empty and I was going to leave when peter came down the stairs.” Parrish doesn’t interrupt for further clarification, perhaps he thinks it will stop him from going off topic. This is the part were Stiles would be fucked if he believed in a higher power because it’s definitely not going to earn him a spot in any nice after life. 

“and he say’s “oh, joy, what brings you here stiles?” and somethings weird though I look at him and it’s just off like there’s bags under his eye’s even worse than mine,” He’s practiced this enough in the bathroom mirror but his already inclining heart beat breaks past the speed limit for people. “ I felt like, it felt like he wasn’t surprised it was me . he knew I was going to be there”

Of course Peter knew, he was a werewolves, he probably planned the whole thing from the start. It wouldn’t surprise anyone; peter is like a fire if you don’t treat it seriously it will kill you. 

“ I was leaving , I got to the door and I didn’t even know he was behind me until my head was bounced off the door frame and I’m looking up off of the ground. Well, trying because he’s over me pushing me down by the back of the neck . I’m yelling “peter…..peter…..fucking stop this ok?....you got me …I’m scared” but he doesn’t say anything thing and I realize im not getting way from him. He sits on my stomach and holds my hands above my head with one hand and puts the other my mouth , thumb covering me noes and waits for me to pass out but I don’t pass out really I can still feel him get up lean over me . I can feel my pants being pulled down and he grabs my face and he’s patting my cheek tells me edible I look. If I could breathe id yell but then I think about how much he out ways me and how far away police or the others are. He fucks me up against the door and the door hinge smashes into the side of my head until there’s blood in my eye. 

“I assume when you say that you mean you were penetrated?” the Deputy has seemed to age years since the conversation began and Stiles doesn’t berate him for the question. 

“Yeah, he penetrated me, uh and I don’t really know when he left. My eyes were stinging but I couldn’t really move ; my brain and my legs were on two different pages so I sat there with my eye’s closed . For a second I thought I was dead so I started counting my breathes, I got to 300 hundred, gathered my clothes and got out of there. It took about two hours I could barely move. When I got home dad was off his shift so i went to my room.”

“Can you guess where Peter would have gone afterwards.” Stiles can see his dad still peeking out from his office window where he’s been for the last forty-five minutes. Would it be awful if he asked him just to read the report so he doesn’t have to say all of this again? 

“Peter comes and goes, I didn’t even know he was in town. Sometimes he leaves for months at a time.” 

“Did you keep any of the clothes from that night?” it goes without saying that a case like this, being reported after a week needs evidence to be anything close to valid. It’s getting harder to swallow like he’s going to cry but that wouldn’t make any sense , he missed his opportunity to cry yet here he is rubbing at his eye’s until there sore. 

“sorry, yeah there in the bottom of my closet.” Of course Parrish say’s they will need him to bring anything from that night in. he tells him he’ll come in tomorrow after school and goes to see his dad.  
Bless his dad. The poor man has so much to deal with as sherrif but stiles was born with ruin in his veins. He’s never known how to make things easy for himself or others. 

“stiles” wrapped up in a hug before he can enter the office the teenager lets the embrace happen. For a long time he’s felt so very small in a way he never felt as a child. 

“I’m ok” the Sherrif and Stiles have an agreed upon rule with painful things like this. They can lie to each other but eventually they will have to deal with it. It’s seems like both of them are hoping the eventually part can wait forever.


	2. This boys a monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> later. later. later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW mentions of Bulimia . proceed with caution please.

Here is the part where, if he was writing an autobiography, he would insert some descriptive simile about teenage angst or love or loss and maybe even pain if Stiles felt eloquent at the moment but its hard to romanticize right then with a cold saliva covered fingers a death grip on the toilet seat and unfocused eyes. That doesn’t mean there is not time for an internal monologue, well stream of consciousness ,

” I should buy Gatorade tomorrow- say I have a cold – why the fuck is it so easy to lie about this – fuck, …….fuck. everything smells like vomit now –“ electrons in the opaque cloud of his brain, thunder white noise in the familiarity of the routine. Brush teeth, wash face, change clothes, and ignore the bite of acid behind his tongue. It may not be conventional for a guy to be puking up his guts every time he can’t handle shit. Stiles has never felt very conventional though, he’s just sticking with what he knows. That being every time he got sick before the difference after wards was – well less awful and he can’t help but chase the chance of feeling better. Really sick isn’t a bad way to label how he feels all the time; his brain caught something and his body just followed.

Theres a wrongness that settles into his stomach as he lays wrapped up in blankets . That he’s doing something like this and has been for a while, while his father is twenty feet away already worried to death. Stiles just keeps piling on the secrets like its his fucking job. He tells himself it’s the burning of his lower esophagus laying still and hoping that if he evens out his breathing and doesn’t move he’ll trick his body into wanting sleep. 1…..2……3..... the screen of his phone lights up again, the first were from Lydia sent at 12:01 , 12: 30 , 12:50 a.m. 

the last and first one from Derek is at 2:03 a.m. the surprise of it is almost enough to warrant a reply . the urge is quickly extinguished by the thought of moving. What could Derek want with him , he couldn’t think of – wait its his last living relative stiles is accusing of rape. Maybe he wants to talk about it. The idea makes his eye’s burn. They aren’t close both derek and stiles and derek and peter but that’s his family stiles is taking away. Peter? He definitely deserves being thrown to the fire (again, but metaphorically this time) it just sucks that Derek as to see it. It’s sucks that his dad and all his friends have to see this; there isn’t really anyway that it will stay a quiet even if he’s a minor and the news can’t release his name without consent everyone will know its him. That’s the problem of growing up in a small town where your father is a pillar of the community.

Ten years ago, a teacher went to jail for sleeping with her student. It was almost completely gone from the collective memories of the town only save for a hush of whispers breaking out amongst the mid-fortie-somethings when Issac Lahey had shown up to BSSC the first day of freshmen year. Perceptive but unobservant at the time stiles had caught an earful “-didn’t his brother?” “oh well I can see why he would join the military……” “terrible shame getting that nice teacher arrested-“ “it’s not like she forced him, lost her career and everything…” what will they say about Stiles? what will pinot sipping book clubs condemn him for? or will he become the poster boy for being a victim?

The sun diffused into the last of the night rising like the dread that cycled once more through his rapidly beating heart. Soon those whispers would be a very tangible thing. What if people knew the whole story, the one with things that go bump in the night and inner demons that aren’t so figurative. The sun light glinting off the the window frame is hurting his eye’s but he’s so zoned out he doesn’t really become aware of the discomfort until the sun spots take up his field of vision. Moving the valentines bear Kira had gotten him from under his cheek Stiles decides tomorrow he’ll just take a damn melatonin. These sleepless nights are fucking with his head , he really doesn’t need help with that. The bear is not very plush, its somewhat rough looking made of stiff burlap material and a velvet vest. It’s filled with something herbal and it makes his skin loosen just a little bit so he figures what the hell he can use all the comfort he can get and moves to his computer chair blanket draped over his shoulders and the bear on his lap.  
Searching the directory of infant names become tiring and he settles on calling it ignancy after a polish fairy tale writer his mom had talked about occasionally, before she was sick, and paranoid and wouldn’t look at him. Stiles isn’t without mercy so he shortens in to iggy to protect the bear from other hypothetical mean teddy bears who would make fun of it’s name. The naming is very important. feels like the only important things he’s been able to do in a while. god. it’s only been a day and a half since he reported the assault and he’s already so tired. It’s hard to imagine even the pre-trial.  
People have done this before though, thousands of people have gone before courtrooms , before judges . No, he can’t think about this anymore. opening more tabs than he needs he whittles away time on pinterest pinning healthy recipes to a bored labeled “father figure” blocks out the skype notifications that pops up focusing all his attention on salmon kale salad and how to season meat alternatives the right way. 

Iggy provides an unbiased ear an hour later when the silence starts to wear him down . It’s nice having an attentive listener even if it’s an inanimate singing brown bear. Finally he can draw in a normal breath . Gut instinct then decides to tell him that he’s being watched and sure enough Derek Hale is patiently crouched outside his window. Too mentally exhausted to even scream Stiles just sighs before turning back to the computer screen. leave me alone, go away.  
An Hour later even after he’s gone to pee twice, the older man is still there. It would have been normal to assume Derek had fallen asleep if Stiles thought for one moment Derek slept like a normal person. Picking up the bear out of habit he goes back to the computer chair , “come in already, you're going to freak out the neighbors.”

“ i want to testify against Peter on your behalf. “ it wasn’t even six a.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh. this month already. schools started again and so has my anxiety. also i had to petition to keep my aid so i could keep going to school.


	3. Round and round we go, just like a carousal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is handling things his way. which is to say he isn't . Derek of all people is trying to help Stiles out and if it weren't so annoying it's be cute. 
> 
> or: Derek takes care of Stiles and thinks he's being desecrate but really Stiles is to tired to do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dereks definitely the type who secretly (but not really so secretly) a mother hen . My sister thought it'd be nice to have someone like Derek look after Stiles because he wouldn't be scared off easily. Also Derek kinda tucks Stiles in but maintains respect for his boundaries/trauma which is why he doesn't just pick him up.

The conversation doesn’t last long. Derek looks confident and uncertain and Stiles has a headache. Maybe it never went away after yesterday when he told his dad that he’d rather not talk in his office so they came home and did it. The reassuring epitaphs from his father, the hesitant hug from both parties after the quick but dirty version of the story. It’s what parents are supposed to do, address the trauma. He’d gone so long with this belief that he was saving people by not bringing up painful things by taking them and hiding them deep down where nothing could live. It was handled as well as could be expected with some vomiting and a headache that seemed fond of him. Derek looks like he has the same type of headache too. 

“ you smell…..sick…..” note to self: gargle and floss next time too. Also buy a mint plant. Not sure why but sounds like a good thing to have on hand. 

“ yeah i feel like shit thanks for noticing.” the older man's eyebrows become a physical sort of question mark. 

“ is that why you didn’t text back? you look fine.” 

“when did you become a doctor? nurse? i must have missed the part where you got a medical degree.” it’s not defensive , it lacks the heat , Stiles just come across as cranky child.  
The panic rises nameless , cold and just stop asking already. this is how i’m dealing . i’m dealing. stop. stop.. stop…. “me and my dad didn’t get done talking until later and i fell asleep.”   
this gets things back on track , 

“I haven’t heard from Peter, have they found him?”

Law in Order makes this look so quick. It’s not; they have to serve papers to Peter. he’ll go to court and then Stiles, a judge will decide if he has a case then pre-trial and if they don’t settle out well. something public, possibly televised. 

“ No…..my dad is still looking.” 

Derek takes a second like he’s deciding something before nodding “ I’ll continue patrolling by my old house and ask Satomi to keep an eye out.” when stiles doesn’t turn around he hears the other man talk behind him and exit through his bedroom door. It’s fine really Derek often comes and goes as he pleases and the wikipedia article Stiles is reading on female pirates is interesting enough. More than interesting really he feels oddly inspired by the section on a Chinese prostitute named Ching Shih who became a powerful pirate leading an impressive and very loyal fleet of ships. It’s pretty early so that could be the cause for his over emotional state , Stiles tears up a little with pride for the dead Chinese women.   
This being why he misses Derek re-entering the room a plate with four slices of cheese pizza has dad had brought home on his lunch break yesterday. The first thing he notices is the pizza and it takes more than a minute for his brain to translate that Derek went down stairs , got into his fridge microwaved half the pizza and brought it upstairs to his room to eat. On principle he thinks asshole before deciding he doesn’t really care. The pizza had gone uneaten because he didn’t have an appetite so it’s probably good someone's eating it. For the second time in the last two hours he’s surprised when Derek sets the plate down on the edge of his desk and grabs a slice lounging on the floor against Stiles bed. 

“You should eat the rest, it’ll be gross if it gets cold.” 

“ Oh my god! what are you talking about? cold pizza is the way you're supposed to eat the leftovers. you savage i -” the outburst startles Stiles like his mouth made a mistake and that sound belonged somewhere other than him. Emotions rush around killing the slight break of depression when he realizes he would have to eat both slices in front of Derek. It would look weird right, if he didn’t? 

“ It’s like eight a.m. Derek, the morning is for breakfast foods not pizza. Also i need sleep not food right now.” The creeper probably watch Stiles for a while before he made himself known and already knew or guessed stiles never went to sleep to begin with. Also he’s trying to formulate how to tell Derek to go away without ruining the tentative calm they have going on. 

“Fine i’ll throw it away.” Derek finishes his first slice grabbing a book from beside the bed to prop open on his knee and skim with his last piece. Stiles is 95% sure that it’s a english to french dictionary he was using last week. The werewolf just keeps reading the book starting in the middle like the deviant he is. It really pisses him off the more he thinks about Derek helping himself to Stiles fridge and then not even eating most of it so he grabs a slice looking over for any reaction from the other man; not even a hit of interest in what Stiles is doing. Pulling the top of the blanket over his head further Stiles starts nibbling on the pizza , every bite feels like cotton taking up space in his stomach but it’s not unbearable. 

“ Stiles go to bed.” The two thirds of the slice he still had left fall from his mouth of of iggy’s head and underneath his computer chair.

“wha-” looming over him Derek grabs the computer chair and pushes it next to the bed, the movement makes him nauseous “could you not do that?” 

“come on Stiles get on the bed.” why does Derek sound frustrated? he’s the one who should be frustrated. 

“come into my home, make me eat pizza for breakfast and then go to sleep. what the hell.” it’s almost inaudible with his face down in the bed but he thinks Derek gets what he saying, werewolf hearing and all. Something gets tucked under his arms to close to sleep to make sense of anything. 

“Goodnight Stiles.” That Stiles does understand, strangely enough he feels happiness bloom warm in his chest, asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week???? i hardly recognize myself. it's really hard for me to keep motivated but the comments have been very kind and it feels good to have something to focus on.


	4. tell me what i want to hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are catching up with Stiles. the stress, the lies, peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh peter, such a good villian

The last three nights since Derek first came over (he’s been making regular appearances since) have been obsessively trying to figure out how things will happen once Peter is apprehended. Will it be because of a parking violation? Will it be some grand car chase as the older werewolf tries to blow through a checkpoint at the border to Mexico? Stiles has constructed several possible instances to be ready for the worst case but he’s pretty sure that won’t be enough. 

While Stiles has been fretting (fretting sounds too calm but he’s not sure what the word is for constant state of panic) Derek has perfected the art of subtle nagging or as Stiles likes to think of it ‘sheep herding’ but the imagery is alarming considering Dereks a wolf and that would mean something bad for Stiles. When Derek pops up there is always ‘too much’ food he gets roped into eating some of and naps that make the day a little easier to handle and Gatorade but that last part Stiles tries not to think to hard on. He also try not to think about the slight sexual arousal of Derek's presence, it’s become a slosh of acid in his stomach leaving him unable to make eye contact for hours at a time. 

The first day they don’t have overcast the sun is bright and a cool breeze comes through the window as his phone lights up ‘dad’ . They find Peter that morning at seven a.m. at a convenience store , the officers who had been there at the same time coincidentally told Peter there was a subpoena for him to appear in court in two days if he failed to show he would labeled a flight risk and held under surveillance until trial. It’s like the more factually it’s explained the less his father speaks to him like he’s dying and the less he feels like he really is dying.

It’s such a nice day and its such a banal circumstance that he doesn’t notice right away that the phone is on the ground or that he’s crying. He’s sucked into an emotional vacuum there’s no air, no light. Stiles cry’s until the only sound he can make out is the sharp wheeze of his wind pipe and the thump of his knees on the carpeted floor. Whether he’s sad or relieved Stiles doesn't know, it’s so much to handle. the last eighteen years of his life have been so much to handle. if he could just take a break for a second from it all he could do this all so much better. Stiles wished he could just die for a moment, Something temporary but all the same he wished he could wish for death because the mere thought of leaving everyone to fend for themselves especially his dad was worse. The guilt coursed angry through his stomach up his throat in the form of foamy bile. 

“oww...fuck” The panic attack had drained the minimal energy he had before leaving him helpless to heave vomit all over his side and leg. the Acrid wet scent of clothes made him mildly pleased Derek was out busy doing a larger check of the Beacon Hills area to make sure no one who shouldn’t be there was.  
Bits of time pass “i need to change my clothes” saying this out loud to summon the energy to do so but only succeeding in lapsing into thought before repeating the same line another three time.

such a pathetic child come on you can do this. The closest dry things in relation to his half sprawled position where a t-shit of Derek's. Sliding out his shirt and pants he pulled on the wrinkled article, it helped enough for him to toss kleenex onto the now dark stain of his carpet and claw his way into bed. 

comfort evades him, he throws on a faded black hoodie down the stairs he barely stops to put on shoes. Out on the street its a slow jog until he hit the corner and then he’s running , running and he feels like he’s possessed again. Body moving over sidewalks through crosswalks until his breathlessness can be blamed on the physical exertion

_I can't let Derek get this close anymore._

Stiles thinks as the ditch before the reservoir comes into sight. Just stick to the plan and put Peter away.  
Fifteen feet from the reservoir he stops to catch his breath, the glare of the fading sun makes him screw up his eyes. Throat burning Stiles bends over to grasp his knee caps to stabilize. 

“ Hello Stiles, you look good.” 

Helplessly Stiles falls to the ground as peter kicks stiles from behind unbalancing him. He focuses on the smell of leather and the cold weight of Pete’s shoe on the back of his neck instead of the reality before him. 

“I just want. to. know. WHY THE FUCK ARE LYING ?” both of their calm facades crumbling in the dirt. Stiles can barely breath pressure constant on his adam's apples as the soil in his mouth. cruel laughter reverberates through the foot on his neck 

“It’s funny i leave for a month and when i come back im a rapist? when have i ever given you anything you didn’t want?” blooms of static black crowd his vision the tree’s become a mass of dark green. 

“ your digging you o-own grave peter. your g-goin-g aw-ay.” Fight or flight should be kicking in it’s not but he sure won't let Pete know that. He jerks a shoulder blade up thankful for his broad physic sliding his arm underneath to get the leverage needed to stand up. 

“i’m diggin my own grave? i don't think so.” the flippancy punctuated with the thorn prick of claws at the back of his neck. “ you thought what i did before was bad? you should see what i do next.” with that pain drowns the light from Stiles eye's the forest is the last thing he see's. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry im very bad at updates but i'll try to have the rest of the chapter tomorrow. things are going to get worse because apparently i love hurting people who dont deserve it. at some point i'll go back and make a more concrete time line but for know just assume its a day by day thing unless a time skip is stated. also , more clothes sharing to come.


	5. hit the ground still breathing (somehow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's all gone. fourteen years of memories erased in one night and even if they aren't completely missing, with Stiles in this state how can he possibly testify ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another twist. and slightly shorter than i intended , there will be more to come. thank you for comments and kudos. 
> 
> inspiration for the chapter: sia - alive

Nails impale Stiles neck further;, memories fly past his vision; it’s the first day of second grade , he has to stay home because his mother had an episode and won’t unlock his bedroom door. 

Its a summer night and he’s watches the mechanic who is working on his jeep slowly get crushed to death as Stiles lays paralyzed thirty feet away. Years of memories keep coming but Stiles doesn’t see them anymore ; he can't see anything anymore , he can't feel anything .   
……………...

Drinking the carpi-sun miserably, wobbly tears welled in Stiles eyes. Derek had to look away it was just pathetic and more than a little cute . They had tried a normal cup of juice at first but that had quickly ended up all over the area rug. 

It still was strange seeing a full grown nineteen year folded up on his couch juice pouch in one hand and blanket in the other. The blanket was easy to understand after Derek had found stiles unconscious in the reserve he had brought the teenager to his loft ; it was fall now and Stiles had been in the cold barely covered for at least most of the night so Derek buried him in the biggest blanket he owned.   
The juice wasn’t that hard to explain either thinking about it even if stiles didn’t have the mental capacity of a five year old at the moment it’s still something he would like. 

but the last bit was a shock when Stiles woke up asked for his mom. Derek though it was temporary confusion or a slip of the tongue but after a few minutes of questioning the teen and Stiles yelling “I don’t know you, my mommy told me not to talk to strangers,” it was apparent something had altered Stiles normal state. Or someone. Someone like Peter who would insure that the person accusing him of such a heinous crime would conveniently forget everything days before trial. 

Missing fourteen years certainly could account for change in behavior though Derek didn’t think the memories were actually missing the half healed scars on the back of his neck indicated some extent of torture. 

“ I’m sorry Mr. Hale.” That sent a shiver up Derek's spine, his stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“it’s fine Stiles.” He hadn’t dealt with children or children like people for a long time . He wasn’t doing very well.

“I’ll clean it up I promise.” Making eye contact with Stiles was weird like another person was talking and using his face as a puppet to do so. There was a quiet fear that causes the juice container to quiver.

“it’s ok you don’t have to-“

“no I can , mom gets angry when I make a mess but im good at cleaning really.” This version of Stiles talked so freely about his mother before he would only mention her fleetingly usually with a disturbing memory. Not like he's one to talk , Derek realizes he’s a hypocrite and hes fine with it.

“ you don’t have to stiles, I’ll get it.”

“I can do it.”

“no, its ok.”

“let me, I can do it.”

“Stiles , stop your being stupid.” Then hell broke loose and stiles buried his face sideways in the duvet chest heaving as his crying grew gradually louder rivaling Lydia in force. This really wasn’t going well .   
He couldn’t call the sheriff , the sheriff who was busy making sure none of them went to jail and whose son he owed the the amount of times he saved Derek from death. Fuck. He forgot that children were more sensitive to things.

“I didn’t- look I wasn’t trying to – ugh, I’m sorry for yelling …….” Stiles doesn’t look up , obviously Derek isn’t going to be forgiven easily so he walks over to the t.v. and turns on animal planet too cute is on he goes and sits on the ground far enough away to give Stiles space. By the end of the program stiles is curled into a corner of the sofa peeking out through the blanket to watch the program blotchy red cheeks visible.

“when m-om gets upset that’s what she says.” Stiles whispers thickly after they’ve been watching t.v. for an hour. Derek doesn’t like the way that sounds or the bitter smell of tears that’s lingering.

“accidents happen, I need to wash the rug anyways. Are you hungry? I can make some mac and cheese.” Someone take note that he’s trying really hard.

“ok I guess,” after Derek had made up a box he sets down the bowls at the kitchen table Stiles shuffles in blanket trailing behind him. “ Mr. Derek, um I can have ketchup please?” 

Derek must have look disgusted because stiles just laughs giving him a cheeky grin " it's really good! promise! Scott showed me it you just-" apparently empty half the bottle onto your noodles " and mix it around till it's kinda more orangish." enthusiastically he takes a bite getting ketchup all over his mouth and some how into his hair. 

his cell-phone rings , it's Lydia , when he picks up Lydia starts talking quickly " i know we planned on giving Stiles his space to deal with this but its been a month Derek, a month since i've talked to or seen him and its not right for him to go through this without us." she's upset even though her voice is professionally curt he can tell she's worried.

"Lydia , we have a bigger problem." Stiles looks up and smiles at Derek before looking over trying to see the next program that's started playing on the t.v. Yeah they have a big problem. fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a separate story idea but it felt like it would work well, i was displeased with how the story was shaping up so i think this will get it to were i want it again. plus how cute is a full grown stiles calling Derek 'mr.hale'? geeze what a guilty (not really) pleasure. since he's not actually fully 'de-aged' im going include this as age kink and borderline daddy kink though no sexual content because yikes, have you read this story so far??? it is kind of killing me no ones getting the sex though.


	6. My heart is gold and my hands are cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, now with only his memories until fiver year old, has to deal with the consequences of his normal self's actions. Lost and trying to navigate his new life Derek is the only person Stiles can trust but even Derek can't protect him from the truth. And the truth will come out. it always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally an update, um. i'm sorry but have some clothes sharing, disordered eating, bed sharing and Derek dressing Stiles. not in that order.

Derek wakes, tense as a creature before its attacked. Through the dark of midnight he can see Stiles standing above bleary eye’d and slightly swaying. The smell of rotting fills the air, the teenager exhales causing Dereks stomach to roll in sympathetic response to the smell of vomit. 

If he wasn’t so concerned Derek would be very concerned that Stiles was hovering over him while he slept like a killer. Taking a breath he blocks out the thoughts of the nogitsune and the stiles that basked in blood. 

“Stiles?” even with his racing mind his voice is molasses slow with fatigue.

“i don’t feel good. my stomach hurts…. i’m scared.” he couldn’t tell if stiles was scared because his mother was sick often or he was wary of how Derek would re-act to Stiles probably having puked all over his living room.  
Swinging his legs over the bed he pads over to cheap ikea dresser in the corner pulling out a fresh shirt “ it’s ok, you said your head hurt earlier right? it’s probably the reason don’t feel good. “ 

Stiles takes the offered shirt pulling off his current clothing, the shirt encases his arms revealing an expanse of warm skin that causes Derek feel something worse than guilty. He makes a frustrated noise unable to get the shirt of wiggling back and forth frantically. The motor skills of a five year old and the body of a nineteen year old warring with the article. Gently Derek slips the material over his arms and while his hands are still up slides the worn guns and roses shirt onto his frame .  
Sitting back on his bed Derek expects Stiles to mill around for a while trying to put off bed he doesn’t expect Stiles to sit at the end of the bed and ask if he can sleep with Derek. He’s helpless to the sad tone , the smell of sadness with a tinge of pain so wordlessly he pulls back the covers for Stiles to slide in. 

“Mr.Derek?” Stiles has scouted to the opposite side of the bed almost on the edge . 

“you can just call me Derek,” There is no response so he gives in to the unnecessary formality, “ yes, Stiles?”

“ i’m not…..this isn’t right is it? i looked in the bathroom mirror and i look like a grown up but i don’t feel like one. i feel like me but-” his voice slows to a whisper like a dying car, “ this body….my body isn’t right is it? i’m so tired and I've got scratches everywhere. did something happen” Derek turns over to face Stiles who his staring intently at his hands, He can understand seeing your own body and feeling like its not yours, like its fake, like its betraying you. 

“There’s nothing wrong with- it’s not your body it your mind, Do you remember when you woke and asked for your mom? do you remember how you didn’t know why you were in my house?” fuck, there so much to tell Stiles, this Stiles, but how the fuck is he supposed to explain it in a way he’ll understand? “.........you had an accident, you got hurt and lost your grown up memories.”

even though mentally he’s five Stiles figures out quickly that is Mr. Derek said he lost his grown up memories that means 1. he’s a grown up now 2. he has not been acting like a grown up 3. he’s scarred. 

Its hard to breath, his head hurts more than it did before. Stiles tries to think hard about the other person he’s supposed to be but there is nothing. It’s as dark in his mind as it is in the room . Derek reaches out to grasp Stiles wrist pulling him towards him to rest just below the older mans chin. Stiles is so surprised he forgets to be scared for a moment. 

“It will be ok. we’ll figure something out….... go to sleep.” Stiles doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to sleep will the anxiety induced nausea rolling through his every breath . He’s ready to tell Derek that much but the pain in his head is receding replaced by something softer. They aren't completely touching only Stiles shoulders and feet rest against Derek. Where there is a connection though warmth spreads through his body until it reaches his eyes lulling them closed.  
He’s asleep before the black fades from Derek's veins where he’s pulling Stiles pain.

The morning arrives without preamble at six a.m. when Derek usually wakes up. Stiles has a low grade fever, at least that's what Derek assumes the slight raise in his body temperature means. His voice is low like radio static with the strain of vomiting yesterday too. Derek bundles him up with the duvet from his bed on the couch turns on the discovery center because its Stiles favorite even if he's not awake yet and calls Lydia. 

She arrives twenty minutes later with several bags of extremely full groceries Derek puts the groceries on the table trying to hide how impressed he is that the human got this much up several flights of stairs. After he's pulled everything out of the bags onto the table he finds Lydia standing in from of Stiles watching him sleep. 

"Its weird. he changed so much once already and now he's changed again but he looks the same as always." She's chewing at her lip , he tries to ignore the smell of scalded milk and wet leaves coming from her. the smell of inexplicable sorrow. Sometimes he hates being privy to this part of peoples vulnerability. the parts no one should know about another person.

"i'm going to get the soup and Gatorade. wake him up.......be gentle." Really there is no need to tell Lydia to be gentle if anyone knows what its like to have their mind toyed with , to have part of you hidden against you will , its her. All the same he days it because it feels like something a person taking care of another person should say. The soups in the microwave when he here's Stiles shouting

"Derek? Derek?!" it's a pitiful sound degraded by the acidic erosion of his throat. Derek ran into the room as fast as possible soup forgotten . Stiles had smashed himself once more into the side of the couch farthest away from Lydia. Lydia looked like she would leave the state to give Stiles enough room. 

"It's ok, this is Lydia. She's your-she's a friend of ours. you've known her for a long time. She brought you soup." From his position on the couch he wearily stares at Lydia tracking he movements as Derek brings in the food. Setting it on the coffee table Stiles turns his attention to the bowl of chicken noodle.

"....Mr.Derek......do grown ups eat chicken noodle soup? i want grown up soup .....but i really like chicken noodle" He's pretty sure him mom gave him the red stuff in the bottle with the orange cap when he was sick before so it's probably a grown up thing but the soup he's not sure if he's allowed to like now that he's a grown up.

Lydia and Derek both relax , Lydia tries not to laugh as Derek tries not to smile . They both fail miserably with the look of determination on Stiles face to be a 'grown up'. 

"Yes Stiles, grown ups like chicken noodle. it's good for your throat. grown ups like things that are good for you so its ok." appeased by this logic Stiles slides to the floor pooling the duvet over his lap. 

The show ends on the t.v. and Stiles grabs the remote remembering that Lydia is still there he turns to were She's sitting in the recliner by the large windows. " Miss Ly'dia do you want to watch something?" His mother always told him to be polite, use his manners more especially if he was in someone else house. Lydia's reply is cut off by a loud buzzing coming from the pile of clothes stiles had arrived in. Derek searches for several moments before finding the phone blinking with a new voice mail notification. 

" Hey Stiles its dad, uh don't forget you gotta be at the court house tomorrow by ten thirty. You got Jude Hammond, he's really nice so there's nothing to worry about ok?....were something nice. oh and call later so i know your ok." 

the mood of the room crescendos into tense silence again. Lydia reacting to Derek's stiffened posture with equal tensity. Stiles drinks from his Gatorade bottle absent mindedly to focused on and episode of Pokemon. 

"That was the Sheriff. the hearings tomorrow." They can prep Stiles to go to court and say "yes, this is the man who hurt me" but then what? what if it goes to trial? how do you prepare a five year old for a rape case? how do you win a trail with no evidence and no memories?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. my. god. this week. this week tried to kill me but it was so bad that i really wanted to post a chapter because that makes me feel better. I dunno why, i already did so much writing. three essays of writing in a week and yet here i am , for fun writing about suddely-a-parent?!derek and i-put-him-in-too-much-pain!stiles. 
> 
> also, its been like forever? since i updated but i have 3 new bookmarks. amazing, hi, i'm really sorry because im shit at updating and i like hurt characters who don't deserve it a lot. welcome fam.


	7. Go forth and have no fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles will always want to help Scott. They're friends, best friends , brothers. no matter  
> how hard they push each other away. 
> 
> Scott goes to the hearing to support Stiles and ends up finding supported instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title is from the X Ambassadors - Renegades.
> 
> extremely fitting song too for cuddling and losing your innocence.

Stiles is sweating. Derek can smell anxiety over the woodsy scent of his body wash Stiles had used that morning. Stiles smelled like home when he first can out of the shower, still sleep soft unmistakably exuding comfort, Something about the two smells combining makes his stomach turn precariously. He can see Scott's fingers sink into the denim of his jeans, fingers turning pale with stress as his friend tells the judge of his attack. 

"Yes, Peter Hale is the man that sexually.......... assaulted me."

The unfortunate thing about being a werewolf is that even though there is the barrier of cheap plywood paneled walls between the waiting area and the courtroom they can hear everything. Every frantic breath and shaky sentence. 

"........He raped m-me." 

Lydia’s eye’s are closed as if in silent prayer contradictory to smell of anger rising from her pores like poison . Derek knew that it was partly due to them being unable to sit with Stiles and help him through the process. The other part being she got angry about things out of her control.

They had gone over Stiles statement with him all night not going to sleep until stiles had fallen asleep at the table around 1; face pressed into a stack of notes Lydia was making. Most of the time had been spent trying to impress upon the boy how important it was that he said exactly what they told him to. There had been a lot of frustrated crying on all their parts as Stiles stumbled over the words again and again. "Yes Mr.Hale a-a-assaulted me." "No Stiles you have to his full name, Peter Hale." Not understanding why he had to recite such terrifying words at the insistence of his temporary guardian. "Why are we doing this? i'm scared. i don't want to do this" "i know from dad that assaulted means hurt, did i get hurt? is that why i'm here?"

Arriving to the courtroom that morning had seen them all exhausted but well dressed. Lydia came back an hour before they had to go with a suit and shoes that look more expensive than the occasion called for. 

The sheriff had been there briefly before getting called away to an amber alert for a child the next town over. By the gauntness of his face countless nights without sleep etched it was probably for the best.

“He’s finished.” Momentarily is Derek thankful Lydia cant hear as well as he & Scott could. It rises in him a wave of protectiveness that dies down when Stiles emerges shakily moments later. The case has been approved and the trial date is set for the end of the month assuming Peter doesn’t enter a plea bargain. He flinches when Derek rests his hand on Stiles shoulder but settles quickly leaning into the touch. “ you did good Stiles.” feeling compelled to reassure the other boy. 

Knowing this Stiles is more fragile and actually doing something about it are to very difficult things for Derek to handle. He's not fit to reassure or help himself so he knows without a doubt he is not qualified to do so for Stiles but he can't bring himself to walk away. 

They walk out to the parking garage where Lydia's S.u.v sits so ordinary that it feels like a mockery of the last few months. In another life they are just coming out of a movie or returning with a plethora groceries in anticipation of a BBQ. Nice things that have no place in this situation. Stiles watery gaze repeatedly seeks out Derek as they get into the car. Derek tries not to think of how much younger it makes him look, sliding into the passenger side to avoid the open vulnerability any further. 

After a few minutes Stiles starts talking“ Um. who are you?” though his voice is low Derek can hear the cautious curiosity in the statement. Lydia swears under her breath as they both realize no one had introduced Scott to Stiles before he went into the courtroom. The question receives a barely repressed whimper from Scott before he clears his throat trying to choose his words carefully. 

“My name is Scott. We're …..friends. actually best friends.” 

“Hmm, i thought so you smelled like Scott but you don’t look the same. so i wasn't sure” Derek looks back to see Scott so painfully hopeful it puts his sad puppy eyes to shame. 

“you- i - wait , i smell the same?” He can hear Stiles nodding as he leans back against the head rest still tired from the night before. 

“ yeah. like flowers and cookies. i’m happy......i thought adult me wasn’t friends with you. i was really sad because Scott's my favorite friend . “ Derek and Lydia stare forward with mutual understanding. Stiles and Scott haven’t spoken to each other since the incident , it’s been harder on them then they thought.   
“why are you crying? are you hurt?” Tears are streaming down Scott's face as he looks blankly at Stiles before gather the other boy in his arms as best he can with both of them still buckled. 

“Scott?” deep anguish fills the car like fog.

“i-i-thought you would h-hate me. So i stayed away. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” Stiles pets his hair humming the Pokemon theme song in what Derek assumes is an attempt to sooth the other boy.

“it’s ok mom say’s sometimes people do things they don’t mean because they are really sad and they can’t find the right words. i could never hate you.” They round the corner to Derek's Apartment. Mid morning sun glinting of the multi. window front refracting warm golden rays; the building feel like a haven. It feels more like home than it ever has and Derek tries not to think to hard about why that is.

Scott can seem to stop crying he just clings tighter to Stiles only stopping as they get out the car. He seems deflated from the rush of emotions, face flushed from crying and silent walking into the loft. 

“ Mr. Derek could Scott stay for a while?” They all look at Stiles curiously, since he had been at Derek's he had never actually asked for something. “He’s sad, i don’t he can drive like that.” This startles a laugh from Derek and Stiles solemn expression deepens unamused. 

“sure, if he wants to i don’t care.” Lydia closes the door behind them going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Stiles takes Derek's permission as a green light to drag Scott over to the couch gently pushing him until he gets the hint to sit down. He leaves for a few minutes retrieving a blanket and his stuffed bear iggy that Derek had retrieved for him yesterday. Long fingers pull the fabric around Scott until both he and Stiles are cocooned in the quilted material, he sits the bear in Scott's lap turning changing the channels until he lands on the Disney which is playing Halloween Town.

Stiles looks more content than he has in a long time appeased so simply with just taking care of his friend. Scott looks so overwhelmed like he will cry again if Stiles says anything else. Like every caring touch is so undeserved its received as punishment. Derek understands the feeling, his heart beats rapidly with emotion forcing him to retreat to the other room so he can breath normally. 

It amazes him how purely empathetic Stiles can be still with limited memories. It amazes him how much of that he’s had to keep hidden as he’s gotten older. Heart inefficiently fortified behind sarcasm and deceit still getting hurt regardless.

Memories of himself similarly more trusting and happy float to the surface. This is what Stiles does to him. Makes him want to hope for things, to want to be happy without sabotaging himself. Trying to quell the anger he sits with Lydia who's made herself vodka with a splash of tea , they talk but mostly its thoughtful silence trying to process the day and whats to come, eventually she leaves to go back home. 

The anger doesn’t leave but it lessens probably thanks to Lydia's presence. It’s hard to identify the origin of the hot rage bubbling in his gut. Things were fine before Stiles and Scott quiet literally fell into his life. He had accepted the perpetual heartache with the comfort of solitude. But now....

Slowly he drags him self back into the living room . Stiles and Scott are leaning into each other on the couch, Stiles is already asleep his eye lashes contrasting starkly with the bruising under his eye’s. Scott looks close to following blinking lethargically as the movie plays on . 

Derek's heart beats out of sync as he breathes in. Loudly thudding.   
_want. want. want._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S.V.U. makes it seem easier than it is to bullshit your way through technical jargon. Anyways, i'm super proud to be at eight chapter already. Also, I originally was going to have peter bump into them at the courthouse but that would ruin what i have planned for the trial. there will be tears, deception and clothes sharing. Not in that order exactly but close. 
> 
> If you want to gives suggestions about the story, talk about ideas in general or just cry with me, my tumblr is http://poze-laceen.tumblr.com/


	8. Note

I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month so there probably won't be any updates until Dec. 1st

good luck to anyone else doing it.


	9. too young, too frail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is trying his best. He has little to no memories, little to no family, but he's trying. Doing what Mr.Derek and Miss.Lydia tells him to even though it's scary. Stiles is trying to be a good big kid, but you know what they say about bad things. They come in threes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, ya'll I'm back. the title is from the Skylar Grey- Wear me out. such a good song and it puts me into the mood to write this story.

The man is there again. 

Stiles tries not to look, doesn’t want to tense up too much will he hold Miss Lydia’s hand

she’s so nice and it’s been really fun being at her house will Mr. Derek is on ‘business’.  
Stiles isn’t really sure though if Mr.Derek is on business. He thinks that's just the words everyone uses because whatever he really is doing is something he doesn’t want to tell Stiles about. 

A the reflection of a cell phone causes him to jerk his head rapidly to the left sure that it’s the man again, but there are nothing and no one standing there when he looks.

For a week, he’s stayed at Miss. Lydia’s Lake house with her. Most of the time they go into to town. they go to colorful coffee shops where Stiles gets hot coco. They go to the store where  
Miss.Lydia lets him pick out his favorite sugary cereal. they go to the park and the library too. 

Miss Lydia treats him the right amount adult and child. She never asks him to do anything too difficult. A part of him wishes he would stay at the lake house forever. 

But a bigger part wants to be with Mr.Derek. The man, the stranger that Stiles sees everywhere now, he was never around when Stiles was with Derek. 

The man is as tall as Derek and has stubble on his face like Derek but unlike Derek, the stranger always wears sunglasses, always disappears when stiles do a double take.  
He seen him in the library looking at the non-fiction section. At the grocery store gently squeezing peaches, outside the cafe walking slowly past them while he looks at his phone. 

Stiles tells himself that big kids, adults, they don’t get scared over stuff like this. So he tries to smile at Miss Lydia and act like he’s having as much fun as he can see she wants him to be having. 

It’s been six days since he’s last seen Mr.Derek or Scott. At Dinner Stiles can’t force himself to eat. He’s nervous, Miss Lydia tells him on Sunday Stiles will go back to the loft and that Mr.Derek has taken care of his business. He’s not nervous to see Mr.Derek again he’;s nervous to go to sleep. go to his room where the man will stare through his window from across the lake, 

His hands start shaking so badly that peas fly everywhere, all over the table cloth and Miss Lydia own plate. In the kitchen window behind the strawberry blond woman's head, he can see the flash of eye’s. 

“Stiles, are you alright? you look sick.” She gets up to put her hand against his forehead. She smells like cinnamon and vanilla. She smells like home which is the only thing stopping him from flinching. 

his brain says, bad.stop.don’t touch me. stop. stop.stop.

the same voice in his head that wants to beg Miss Lydia not make him go his room. 

the only thing that comes out is nothing. nothingness. it’s all Stiles has in him right then. So he smiles and pretends to yawn. 

“Why don’t you go to bed early? I know we’ve on the go all week. Tomorrow we’ll stay home ok? we’ll order some takeout and watch movies.” Stiles gets up with his plate going to brush his teeth in the main bathroom of the lake house. Stares at the weathered nautical patterned wallpaper as he brushes his teeth with the bubblegum toothpaste Lydia has insisted they get. 

She’s always buying things for him it's so nice that it makes him feel a little bad for accepting the things she gives him. 

Slowly he drags himself into the room. The broad arching wooden beams and blue walls should be comforting. This room hasn’t felt comfortable one minute since they got there. He’s pulling his blankets off the bed before he realizes what his hands are doing, lays the blankets and pillows in the closet. The doors and windows are locked by the time he’s ready for sleep so he waits like he has for the last five days until he sun comes up. 

The first night Stiles noticed the man watching from across the lake. He pulled up the flannel sheet of his bed trying to convince himself that it’s his imagination.

The next night the man gets closer and every night since. The fear creeps overs Stiles skin until every rustling branch and sound outside of the lake house is the man coming to hurt him. Take him away from Miss Lydia, Mr.Derek and Scott. It’s so suffocating laying in the silence of his room, it brings fractured flashes of memories. Of a dark blackness that some part of him was familiar with before he woke up in his too big body with too little memories. 

As the fear increases so do the memories it doesn’t even feel like his body at times. So much red. He dreams are in red with what he knows deep down is blood. Curling up into the blankets he holds his stuffed rabbit closer until its fur is warm with the breath from his mouth. The window shakes like someone is trying to open it from the outside. It’s a slowly metallic clanking sound at first, but it quickly grows until Stiles thinks there is possibly a hurricane right outside that very wall. 

Breath his caught in through as his mind tries to rationalize the quaking window. The only thing grounding him is the warm pain of his fingernails curled into his palm. Minutes tick by and slowly the sound stops until Stiles unsure if it ever happened. 

Curled into the closet he lays there numb with terror waiting until either the man or the morning come. Watery pale light falls under the door after Stiles has counts as high as he can remember counting.  
The delicate rhythm of Lydia’s feet wakes him from his stupor. Going into the routine, he’s established of putting everything in order before going to join Lydia for breakfast. 

He’s pulling the blanket from the ornate curtain rod as comes face to face with the man he sees’s every night. 

Blue eye’s meet his and then he feels cold, someone is screaming, but he can’t look away from the man in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'all had a good holiday break. Mine was super hectic, NaNoWriMo, a play audition and my room flooded. This year has certainly been eventful. I'd estimate there are about five-ish chapters left in this series it's gone by so fast thank you for reading it so far (and enduring my bad grammar lol) :)


	10. honey and nettles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is getting his memories back, it's becoming more and more clear to him how desperately he wishes he wouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i swear i didn't mean to let this sit for eight months. it feels like it was just January.   
> anyway im almost done with this dang thing so i cant abandon it now. 
> 
> and what helped really was a comment i got a few months ago expressing interest in the story even though ive been an unmotivated slug and left the story to silently judge me for months. So here is me practicing a bit of New years resolve and trying to finish what i started.

His face shines , continuous with tears, a waterfall of abject sadness 

He doesn’t look as young anymore

“ I know.” each syllable is rough , churned through the rusted cogs of his tired body

“ I remember.” which is at both times a burden and a blessing. To finally have some footing, to finally understand. 

Lydia looks away, an aura of pain vibrant enough for those who are not supernatural in the room to sense overwhelmingly.

“All those scary things you made me say….” a hiccup stops up his lungs reducing his ability to breath, it carries a crushing feeling throughout his body.

Right now the only things he has in the world are the well-worn beige carpet fibers of his childhood home beneath his fingers and a fractured memory clarifying with each day.   
All he wants is to be sitting on Mr- no Derek's couch, safe in his blanket watching the animal channel.   
Want is a vicious thing , it pours like water into the cracks of your pain and freezes. It expands and expands until chunks of soft feelings fall from your soul.

Has Stiles always been this empty?

He wishes his dad would hold him. 

“I was hoping-, ... I wanted you to stay little for longer Stiles. I really did.” Lydia's voice does nothing to comfort him. Right now in the horrifying moment, Stiles is both little and not. He’s remembered a lot but those pieces of big Stiles haven’t all been sorted or labeled yet. They lay like torn paper in the dark of his mind waiting to be made sense of. 

His fingers curl into his palm. Tighter, they’re a sharp clarifying pressure. Tighter, they’re a sharp electric pain radiating heat. Maybe he’s bleeding. It might be better if he was. Bleeding can be fixed with a band-aid. It’s a problem with a logical ending but this pain he feels inside doesn’t feel like it can be soothed as easily.   
Derek kneels in front of him taking his and smoothing out the bloody crescent marks on his palms

“Don’t touch me” its weak, barely audible. he doesn’t mean it, it's something automatic in his DNA. words from a different him. 

Derek doesn’t move, he’s a buoy in violent churning waters. “What do you remember.” 

He feels betrayed to have to say it out loud. That they want to squeeze even more heartache into his ill-fitting body.   
Stiles hates the way they look at him as if there is a right and wrong answer, that there is a possibility that this awful thing that he has remembered isn’t the right awful thing. 

His father looks at him from the faded blue couch by the wall. He’s drowning too. 

Water endlessly pours from his eyes, he can barely bring himself to be aware of the discomforting feeling of his clothes dampening. Stiles watches the closed front door impassively. His panic tapering emptiness. 

He clears his throat, “Peter….i know that Peter touched , no…..i know that Peter fu-.” Derek's hands tighten on his own, the older man looks at him the way you do when a loved one has been seriously ill for a long time and finally closes their eyes forever. Is there a name for that kind of pain and relief? For such a delicate mixture of competing emotions. 

The first drops of rain fall. They ring the plastic pots and metal mailbox outside. They fall and fall until the white noise of them creeps into the house.

“We're going to make this right.” Stiles nods on cue, smiles and says he’ll be ok. He lets the Stiles before him take over for a moment with the ghost of settled mannerisms. He’s not sure he’s done it very well. 

“I want a bath” Stiles staggers into a standing position and Derek comes with him because though his current younger and vulnerable self just want a bath and to sleep. It had come out sounding like , I want to die , instead. 

And perhaps Derek heard that which is why he follows Stiles up the stairs to the bathroom wordlessly. Secretly he doesn't mind thought. After the lake house, Stiles had demanded they come to his real house. He wanted to be able to sleep in familiar territory , hopeful away from watching eyes. Derek was another layer of safety to wrap around himself .   
The other man turns on the faucet, following the routine they had established at Derek's loft over several weeks. By the times Stiles turns around unclothed , there are vanilla scented bubbles frothing the water. Derek looks away from stiles until he gets in the tub. Stiles lays his head on the curved rim looking around the room. 

“I don’t remember everything”, the soothing heat of the bath loosens his tongue , “ I don’t remember Lydia or my mom dying.” but he remembers Peter and the burdening feelings of sadness remember him. 

Derek overturns an empty Irish spring box that he had found in the corner bringing it over to stiles and sitting. Tentatively he dips his hand in the water running his fingers through stiles hair. Derek makes him want to be little, something or someone easily protected. He makes it easy to want to be selfish. 

“Big stiles, me - I don't have footie pajamas do it? “ the answer is obvious but he’s clinging and Derek lets him. 

“No, I don’t think so” his fingers catch in Stiles bangs, a small fond smile calms the tense line of his mouth. 

“I don’t like big me.” it sounds petulant. Like he's complaining about his adult-self being boring.

He means he hates that version of him. 

It’s quiet.Stiles Lays down in the water with his head ducked against the tub wall. 

“I’m scared of getting all my memories back. That person isn’t good Derek. I don’t want to be him.” if the memories he’s already gotten back are enough to go off of Stiles is ok with never knowing anything else. 

He’s not who he thought he would grow up to be. 

“Stiles you're……,” he doesn’t seem sure of what to say “Stiles, Grown up you isn’t ...bad.” Derek sighs as if Stiles fatigue is permeating the air. “You're smart and loyal and protective, your always willing to sacrifice yourself for your friends. I think grown up you tries very hard to be a good person.” it seems like he should scoff at such a statement but minutely is works to ease his fear.

“Peter, the one who caused this, he is a bad guy.”

“You will be ok Stiles. No matter what memories you do or don’t get back.” Derek continues rubbing his damp hand through Stiles' hair, he can hear his father climb the stairs hesitating at the bathroom before continuing to his room. The rain is unyielding, it’s the only thing that lends any sense of continuity to the moment and his anxious thoughts.   
Friday pre-trial starts. 

With his returning memory the biggest realization is that Peter may be a bad guy but Stiles is just another side of the same coin. 

His hands are not clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels a little abrupt to end the previous chapter with him face to face with the stalker and then hardly mentioning it but the stalker wasn't really an important point , his growing fear and re-gaining his memories was. ofc i will address the minor significance of it before the end of the series. 
> 
> Since the start i had been really interested in de-aging stiles through memory manipulation and i dunno about anyone else but i don't really like amnesia stories where suddenly they regain all their memories. i want there to be a frustration an juxtaposition between who stiles was before, who he was when he woke up and that person who is caught in the middle.

**Author's Note:**

> ok the goal is twice a month. i'm really bad at goals but im too invested in this story to stop,


End file.
